Bruce Banner's Bad Day
by CassieWolfe
Summary: When the Winchesters came to investigate Pepper Potts' strange death, they probably didn't expect what they found. Or, Bruce is the only rational Avenger. Oneshot, gen (can be seen as pre-slash). Warning: I've never seen Avengers, so this will likely be OOC. I don't own the characters or world.
1. Chapter 1

One breezy October morning, two scientists were hard at work in their lab. One, Tony Stark, was bent over a dangerous-looking contraption, which somewhat resembled a paper snowflake, except for the fact that it was clearly made of metal. The other, Bruce Banner, appeared to be engaged in the blueprints for said snowflake, that, if one had the knowledge and inclination, would seem to indicate that the object would, eventually, become A.I. integrated and possibly make coffee.

There were, however few people who could figure this out, and the men who had just entered were not two of them.

"Master Stark," a voice announced from the ceiling, "You have two visitors waiting at the door."

"Who are they?" Tony asked, mild curiosity in his voice.

"They claim to be federal Agents Young and Scott. I am currently running facial scans."

The genius went back to his tinkering as he waited for his A.I. to finish the scan.

"Ah. No Agents Young or Scott on file at FBI headquarters. Facial scans match Sam and Dean Winchester, thought dead several times. Wanted by the FBI for multiple crimes including murder, kidnapping, assault, and grave desecration. However, there are inconsistencies in the incidents."

J.A.R.V.I.S. pulled up the files without being prompted. Tony had clearly expected no less.

"Huh. Vigilantes."

"What?" Bruce asked, turning from the plans for the first time.

"The Winchesters," Tony told him, seemingly expecting that to explain everything. Seeing his friend's confusion, he added, "I'll explain after you talk to them. J.A.R.V.I.S., let them in."

The loyal computer obeyed.

Two tall men came in, walking purposefully. And yeah, most people would have taken them for what they claimed to be, but neither Bruce nor Tony was _most people_. Even without J.A.R.V.I.S.'s warning, they would have noticed things, like the fact that they looked far too similar to not be related, that they wore slightly-too-cheap suits with the kind of discomfort that said they weren't used to this, that the shorter walked slightly in front of the other, walking with grace that spoke of long practice in mirroring his brother's movements.

"Hello," the elder began, "I'm Agent Scott and this Agent Young. We'd like to ask you a few questions about Ms. Potts' death?"

Bruce glanced at Tony, noting his slight inhale and the stiffening of his body. If he didn't know better, he would have said that his friend was unaffected by his girlfriend's demise, but he did. He'd held Tony as he cried after they found Pepper's body, brutally torn apart in the bedroom. Had woken the genius from nightmares every night since.

As always, Tony responded with his natural defence – wit. "Wow," he started breezily, "and psychiatrists find me fascinating."

Their two guest exchanged glances, and Bruce guessed that now was the time to intervene.

"Ignore him," he told them. "And don't take it personally – he offends everyone equally. I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, and this is Tony Stark. Perhaps we should take this up to the lounge?"

"Right," 'Young' responded. "Thank you."

"Tony, shut down anything explosive, would you? And where's Clint? Clint!"

"Right here," came a muffled voice from the ceiling. "I'm coming."

A moment later, the same voice said rather sheepishly, "Actually, I think I might be stuck."

Bruce inhaled deeply. Bruce counted to ten. Bruce waited until he was sure he wouldn't go green before saying, admirably calmly, he felt, "Right. Tony, get Clint out of the ceiling, finish up here and meet us in the lounge. I'll expect you in twenty minutes."

He turned, and, ushering the two supposed agents out, left the lab. He led the guests through the elevator and into the lounge upstairs, decorated in cool whites and greys with huge windows and lush houseplants scattered around. They sat, rather uncomfortably, on the white leather sofa, startling when J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice spoke from, it appeared, thin air.

"Dr. Banner," the cultured British tones stated, "it appears that Master Stark has gotten himself stuck in the air vents with Mr. Barton."

To his visitors, Bruce said matter-of-factly, "I wish I could tell you you came on a bad day, but this is really rather routine."

"So, Dr. Banner," The elder started, when a tall figure in green and gold amour appeared in the middle of the room. Loki ignored the two 'agents' completely, turning instead to the highly put-upon scientist.

"Look, mortal! Have you ever seen anything more adorable than these little fuzzballs in your pitiful little life?"

"Kittens?" Bruce sighed. At this point, he supposed, he really should have been expecting something like this. "Put them in the air vents with Tony and Clint," he said sarcastically, "at least then all my problems will be in one place."

"As you say," and Loki popped out.

"Wait, not literally," Bruce exclaimed, but it was too late. He sighed and turned to the two increasingly confused men. "What were you saying?"

Before either could answer, a slim teenage boy came in (the normal way this time, thankfully. Bruce's guests were looking rather twitchy).

"Hey, Dr. Banner. What's up?"

"Peter!" Bruce exclaimed in relief. "Thank heavens. Can you go down to the lab and get Clint, Tony and the kittens out of the air vents? Then make sure they're decent and bring them in here. Thank you."

Looking puzzled, the teen did as he asked.

"Now, gentlemen," Bruce started, before being interrupted yet again, this time by J.A.R.V.I.S.

"Dr. Banner, there has been a malfunction with the web fluid. It would appear that Mr. Parker has gotten himself stuck in the vents with Master Stark, Mr. Barton and several kittens."

This was finally the last straw. Bruce felt his control slipping away, away, and everything went fuzzy. He felt his clothes ripping, and the last thing he saw before his vision went dark was the two agents standing and drawing guns.


	2. Chapter 2

So this was supposed to be a one-shot, but I realized I left everyone on a bit of a cliffie, what with Bruce Hulking out on the Winchesters, so I decided to whip this up. Also, I realized that I didn't include all the Avengers; if I don't mention it later on, Steve and Bucky were at a meeting with Fury, Natasha was on a mission in Bulgaria and Thor was visiting Asgard.

Pt II

It was supposed to be a relatively simple hunt. Clear-cut. There's a violent death, couple decades later a new house is built and the owner's girlfriend bites the dust. Simple, right?

Maybe, Dean reflects, he should have expected this. Should have known that the Winchester Luck would act up. Or maybe there was nothing he could have prepared for, since the Avengers, the new inhabitants of the haunted property, had pretty infamous luck themselves.

It started, not well, but not _too_ badly. There was nothing that suggested it would go this wrong. (It was Tuesday. Of course it went wrong.)

But then things started happening, and in the space of ten minutes, their host had gone from smiling – if a little stiffly – to big and green and distinctly _not_ jolly. And the Hulk didn't seem too impressed with the twin guns pointed at his face. In fact, he seemed to take exception to it.

As the rage monster charged, Dean ran, shoving his brother ahead of him. What, you really think he'd leave Sammy behind?

Nothing seemed to slow down the Hulk, and Dean was just making peace with the fact that they were about to be grease spots on the floor when the elevator opened and salvation walked out. Two tall men, one blond, the other dark-haired and fitted with a metal arm. They were chatting companionably, but the instant their eyes caught on the scene in front of them, they froze.

The blond swore, then snapped out orders: "Bucky, get those guys out of here. I'll try and get through to the big guy. Damn, I wish Thor were here."

The Winter Soldier obeyed instantly and without question. He grabbed Dean by one arm, Sam by the other, and hauled them into the elevator, already snapping at the voice in the ceiling.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., first floor. Now!"

The elevator started moving almost immediately without a wait like in most, but not fast enough to avoid shaking when the Hulk barrelled into the doors. Winter Soldier frowned at the ceiling, but didn't speak. Before now, Dean had never been a subscriber to the whole 'it's scarier if they don't talk' thing, but after today he'd believe it. The guy was, for lack of a better word, blank. Standing at attention like the soldier he was, his eyes roved over the two Winchesters, but he stayed silent.

After what seemed like ages, the elevator opened. The Soldier steered them toward the Impala, then turned to go back in. Dean didn't question it. He shoved Sam into the passenger seat, then floored it.

Later, back in the motel, he turned on the news. There, splayed across the screen, was Avengers Tower, windows of the fiftieth floor shattered, smoke billowing out.

"Today," the newscaster was saying, "Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk, went big and green on Avengers Tower. No-one knows what set him off, but there's a lot of speculation. Nobody was harmed in this incident, and Captain America managed to calm him down, but there's quite a bit of property damage, and when escorted out of the building Tony Stark and his two companions looked quite strange. Here's the footage now."

It cut to a clip of Stark, the man Dean assumed was Clint Barton, and the kid Bruce referred to as Peter walking out of the building. They looked miserable, festooned in what appeared to be semi-liquid white spiderwebs. Stark was carrying a box, presumably containing the infamous kittens.

The newscaster continued, "Mr. Stark has confirmed that their eccentric appearance was due to a malfunction with Spider-man's webs, which he manufactures for the elusive vigilante."

Dean turned off the news.

"Hey, Sammy," he called to his brother.

"What?" Sam responded from the bathroom, over the sound of the shower.

Thoughtfully, Dean said, "I think the Avengers have this one covered. Let's leave them to it."

"Hell, no!" his brother said indignantly. "They're not prepared for this."

"Think about it. We're just making things worse. I think they've got this."

"Really?" Sam asked incredulously. Dean could guess what he was thinking. There was only one brother who'd ever suggested leaving a job, and it wasn't Dean. The elder brother usually stuck to cases like a bulldog.

"Really," he confirmed.

The taller brother came out, towelling his hair. "Well, if you're sure."

"I'll keep an eye on the news. Any more deaths, we'll come right back."

Grabbing his clothes and shoving the old ones into his duffel, Sam shrugged. It was clear that, as far as he was concerned, the conversation was over. (Dean missed when his brother questioned him. Missed when he'd ask Dean, _what's wrong?_ and _are you okay?._)

The shorter hunter picked up his bag and the weapons duffel, carried them out to the car. Five minutes later, they were on the road, Def Leppard blasting through the sleek car.

"So," Dean asked, "Where are we heading next?"

"Well, there's a couple of weird deaths in Belgrade, MT. Might be a case. We've got people dying with their hearts torn out, but it's the wrong lunar cycle for werewolf-"

And just like that, they were back on familiar ground, with no deal and no demons' blood and no betrayal. Only the Winchester brothers, the Impala and the road. Just like always.


End file.
